


Augmented: A Mini Series

by Misunkun



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Angst, Blood and Violence, Clone Sex, Dark, Drug Use, Hedonism, Light BDSM, M/M, Orgy, Rough Sex, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:15:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24317932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misunkun/pseuds/Misunkun
Summary: You have trained for this. You bear powers beyond mortal men and the scars that come with them. You have been designed in our moment of greatest need to fight that which we cannot. You are the Augmented. Reborn in the vastness of space, you will die there. This is your lot in life for you once willingly volunteered for it. Never forget.You do not live. You do not laugh. You do not lose.You are mankind’s ultimate weapon.You are the nine.
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Park Chanyeol, Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Kim Jongin | Kai, Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Kim Jongin | Kai/X-Exo Kai, Kim Jongdae | Chen/Kim Minseok | Xiumin, Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Oh Sehun, Oh Sehun orgy, Park Chanyeol/Loey/Yeol
Comments: 3
Kudos: 51





	1. Eight years ago...

**Author's Note:**

> These short cut-scenes were written as each of the Obsession clone teaser images came out. They seemingly stood apart and fragmented when viewed in that order... This compiles them into their proper timeline if viewed chronologically. It is the beginning of their story.

Baëkhyun rears up, pulling back onto his knees. He pushes Chanyeøl’s legs back further, wider, splaying him fully open. Chanyeøl immediately grabs hold, hooking his own palm under one of his knees to pull his leg back as far as it’ll bend against his chest. The other he keeps draped to his side, calibrated pistol cocked and ready. It’s tricky with his fingers slippery with blood.

The banging outside the barricaded door intensifies. Baëkhyun laughs, the chain across his cheeks bouncing with the movement. “On your left.”

Chanyeøl rolls his head eagerly to the side, raises his weapon and waits. His arm jolts as Baëkhyun pushes heavy and hard inside his sloppy rim, stretched and deliciously painful from how many times they’ve already screwed tonight. So many positions that Chanyeøl has lost count. His favorite was against the wall with Baekhyun screaming his name and raking cuts down his back, he was so out of his mind with pleasure. Baëkhyun’s balls slap against Chanyeøl’s overstimulated skin as he sinks all the way home but he holds his aim and sights as a figure in a guard’s uniform squeezes itself through the makeshift gap.

Chanyeøl fires. The laser sears effortlessly through armor and flesh and bone.

The guard gurgles and slumps, sliding the rest of the way through the debris to land on top of the other bodies already piled below. Baëkhyun makes a delighted sound and grinds into Chanyeøl, pinning his larger body to the surgical table.

Chanyeøl grins, his teeth stained pink and drops his head back until it hits the medical grade steel. Baëkhyun scrabbles for the second weapon and clasps it, bringing it up and trailing it slowly across Chanyeøl’s throat, down to his chest and over one hard nipple, the rim catching on the pebbled nub, making him moan. Baëkhyun cocks it over his heart.

“Nice shot.” Baëkhyun licks his lips and pulls out, torturously slow. “But I want a headshot next time. We still have walls to paint.”

Chanyeøl lets go of his leg and grabs for Baëkhyun’s dangling ponytail, yanking him forward. Their lips meet and Chanyeøl bites down, drawing a delighted, pained cry from Baëkhyun. Chanyeøl suckles on the taste of copper and licks it back into Baëkhyun’s mouth, sharing it. Just like they share everything else.

“Then fuck me harder. Make me come and I’ll carve open every skull for you.”

Baëkhyun shivers, locking his knees for purchase and balance. “God. You always know just how to turn me on.”

Chanyeøl’s fingers leave red stains in Baëkhyun’s pristine silver hair but it only makes him hornier, wilder and Baëkhyun opens his mouth for Chanyeøl to feed him the still-warm fluid as he grips his hips and fucks deep. Chanyeøl loves that more than almost anything else, is always a slut for being pounded like this; moaning loud enough that the guards outside can have no doubt that they’re fucking amongst the piles of cooling corpses.

Chanyeøl’s thumb messes up the chain’s pristine glow but Baëkhyun just rolls his hips, licking up each last drop Chanyeøl feeds him, chasing the taste. The sounds of gunshots -old world projectiles- cracks through the reinforced steel doors and their makeshift barricading. Baëkhyun ducks them, leaning down to sink his teeth into Chanyeøl’s neck. “Wanna see the fucking stars with you,” he murmurs, teasing the skin, unable to be coherent with how tight and hot Chanyeøl is around him. “Get out of here and never look back.”

Chanyeøl tightens his grip and lets his knees drop forward to hook around Baëkhyun’s slim hips. His mouth falls open as Baëkhyun finds his prostate, accurate as always and he pants out, “Soon baby. _Fuck_. Soon.”

Baëkhyun raises his gun without looking as the door cracks. “ _No one_ will stop us,” he promises feverishly, sweating with the effort to make Chanyeøl whine each time he nails him. His gorgeous, sadistic baby is dripping, pooling precum against the muscled curves of his stomach. It mixes to pink with the smears of dried blood on his skin.

Three guards crash through, breaking away the debris. A siren sounds, red lights whipping in circles above them. Baëkhyun squeezes the trigger as pleasure builds higher in his abdomen, watching Chanyeøl’s face. Only Chanyeøl.

Always Chanyeøl.

The guard screams, dropping not more than a few steps inside the doorway, a hole burned through his neck. His companions climb around him as Baëkhyun curves over Chanyeøl and grabs his straining cock, jacking fast and tight. Other, darker fluids slick the way. Fuck, yeah.

Chanyeøl arches into the pleasure, sweat plastering his bangs to his forehead. His eyes glaze over, foggy and far too aroused and he lifts his arm again, blowing the knees out from under the second guard and crippling him just before he reaches them. Baëkhyun laughs, loud and dizzy.

“Now,” he demands, grinding mercilessly against Chanyeøl’s centre, feeling his cock swell beneath his fingers.

Chanyeøl makes the headshot with the final guard. The wall beside him turns crimson.

The gun clatters to the floor, forgotten as Chanyeøl comes all over them both in thick pulses of cream, head thrown back in ecstasy.


	2. Seven years ago...

The door opens with a hydraulic hiss of compressed air. A body immediately fills the vacated space and Chën wastes no time; he places his weapon between the guard’s eyes and squeezes the trigger. Lasers leave no sound.

The body crumples and Chën steps over it, raising both hands. “Nobody move!”

_Xiūmin winks, his multicolored eyes flashing. With a bite of his lip he looks Chën over from head to toe with great deliberation. “I think I’m going to like you.”_

_A whistle sounds. Chën swings his fist at his head._

The men in their red uniforms all freeze; some at their computers, some standing. Chën levels both his twin pistols at their heads. “I can kill all of you before you reach me and you know it. Now answer me. Where are they?”

_“What did you used to be?” Xiūmin asks, voice hushed. Chën ignores him so he continues, mistaking his silence for confusion. “You know… before.”_

_Chën stays silent. He should never have been roomed with this idiot. Why did he volunteer for this shit?_

One guard stammers. “W-we don’t know! We’re just an outpost station!”

Chën swings his head towards the voice, the chain against his cheek glinting. He sights down the barrel and fires. The man crumples.

“Anyone else want to tell me they don’t know?”

_“You’re cute,” Xiūmin pants, dodging the training sentinel as it swings for his head. He grabs hold of the limb and his hand flares; the metal cracks like ice. “If only you talked more.”_

_Chën throws another cyborg over his shoulder, deliberately aiming it at Minseok who has to dodge out of the way. “Do you ever shut up?”_

_Even coated in blood and machine fluids Minseok’s smile is dazzling. “Nope,”_

Chën strides over to the nearest computer terminal and shoots the guard in front of it. He holsters one weapon and keeps the other trained behind him as he accesses the Red-Sector system. “It has to be here…” he mutters, frantic.

_Xiūmin grunts as his back hits the wall. The abandoned building they’re in is derelict and perfect for training; most of the planet is a desolate wasteland so they can train without discovery or repercussions. “Should have gone for my head.”_

_“And miss your witty repartee?” Chën swings, gloved knuckles crumbling stone as Xiūmin ducks out of the way. “I’ve just got used to it.”_

“ _You love it,” Xiūmin pants, aiming a jab at Chën’s ear; it sends him stumbling. “Admit it.”_

_Chën spits blood. “Maybe.”_

The screen rolls out numerous lines of code and Chën bares his teeth as they unfold. Schematics. Transfer records. Organ harvesting. Clone experime- Chën scrolls back.

**Designation 99 – case closed. Deceased.**

Chën inhales sharply. “No…”

His fingers fly over the data point, scrambling for more.

**Designation 1 – case closed. Deceased.**

**Designation 88 – case closed. Deceased.**

**Deceased.**

**Deceased.**

**Deceased.**

Chën screams.

_Xiūmin’s hands in Chën’s hair grip so tightly it hurts. And neither of them would have it any other way. Chën bites down on the bare shoulder underneath him, drawing blood to the surface with thick, heavy sucks. He gasps around the skin between his lips._

_“You’re so tight. Fuck.”_

_Xiūmin moans, the patter of water from the shower cubicle making it reverberate. “Please, faster. Ohgod. We-we don’t have much-”_

_Chën lifts Xiūmin’s leg with one hand, the water running over them as they fuck on the tiled floor making everything slick and perfect. “Shut up,” he pants. “And let me make you feel good.”_

_Xiūmin arches against him, splayed out like a a debauched angel, purple hair swirling about his head. “You always do.”_

The bodies lie where they fall. Chën leaves them inside to burn as he torches the station; the flames lick at his boots as he stalks outside.

So it was true after all. He was the only one left.


	3. Five years ago..

In a whisper of silk the blindfold comes off and Kyungsoo blinks away the stars left behind his pressed eyelids. Several neon lights around them spark for a moment until Kyungsoo gets his vision under control and only then does he properly adjust to the way it drips off the all-consuming dark decor.

Red and black. Kyungsoo tries to turn but Jongin’s soft hand on his neck keeps him facing the closed, black-lit door in front of them. Kyungsoo feels the air shift as Jongin brings his mouth down next to Kyungsoo’s ear.

“It’s what you wanted, right?”

He sounds giddy and excited; the bounce in his tone is unmistakable and any tension left in Kyungsoo’s shoulders drains away at the realization that Jongin wants this for him. For them. Kyungsoo inhales slowly; the air that fills his lungs smells like cigarette smoke and sex.

“Yes,” he whispers.

“Oh thank god,” Jongin huffs happily against his ear, squeezing the hand still resting on Kyungsoo’s nape. “I mean I had hoped with the way you talked about it but I wouldn’t have been angry if you walked away either.”

Kyungsoo looks up at the engraved neon number on the room door: one of a hundred in a long line in this club. Eighty-eight. He wonders how many other patrons are staring up at their own doors right now. But Kyungsoo doesn’t dare look left or right. “Have you already paid for the transference?”

The soft smile in Jongin’s voice seeps through. “I did.” He nuzzles the side of Kyungsoo’s head. “But I don’t mind about the money. I just like seeing you happy.”

Kyungsoo fumbles behind himself to grab Jongin’s free hand. He can feel himself getting hard just at the _thought_ of being here. “I love you,” he whispers, licking his lips.

Jongin presses a kiss to Kyungsoo’s hair. “I love you too.” Then he reaches their clasped hands out and helps Kyungsoo turn the doorknob.

A pair of white eyes flick up from the darkness inside. Kyungsoo can feel the shift in the room as he and Jongin step inside, still holding hands. Something about the aura emanating from the huge bed that fills most of the space makes Kyungsoo’s breath catch. The occupant of it blinks those same silky eyes up at them from where he’s lounging in the middle and stands up slowly, all controlled muscle and movement as he saunters across the small distance. He reaches them both and cocks his head to one side, emerald hair tumbling.

Kyungsoo swallows, pants tightening. Jongin’s chin comes to rest on Kyungsoo’s shoulder and he smiles up at the man who could be his double. If only mirrors came cracked instead of whole. “We have two whole hours. Kyungsoo, this is Kāi.”

Kāi smiles, slow and dangerous. “He’s aroused already,” he murmurs, amused, eyes dipping shamelessly down to Kyungsoo’s crotch. He reaches out a hand and runs one gold-flecked nail against the bulge he finds there. “Look at him.”

Kyungsoo can’t hide the embarrassed flush that stains his cheeks. Jongin hums, turning his head to suckle a wet mark into Kyungsoo’s neck that along with the hand on his dick makes Kyungsoo pant. Jongin’s lips eventually pop free to hover over the mark.

“He’s wanted this for a long time. Tonight’s his birthday.”

One eyebrow raises and Kāi steps closer, pressing Kyungsoo in between both of them, trapping him between the combined heat of their bodies in a way that makes Kyungsoo want to whimper. Kāi gives a squeeze of his handful and the sound finally makes its way past Kyungsoo’s lips as his cock throbs eagerly. That earns him a smile.

“We had better make it extra special then.” Kāi pulls his hand back slowly and Kyungsoo bites his lip to stop any more embarrassingly needy noises, thrusting into nothingness, wanting more, already wound tightly. A dark, muffled chuckle makes him realize he’s closed his eyes. When Kyungsoo opens them Kāi has leaned to his right and is kissing Jongin messily over his shoulder, their mouths obscene in the low lighting. Kyungsoo _whines_ because he wants in on that so badly it fucking hurts.

Kāi pulls back, licking the taste of Jongin from his stained mouth. “List your rules first so I don’t have to wait.”

Kyungsoo blinks. “Rules?”

“Safeword and limits,” Jongin whispers, tugging Kyungsoo to rest back against him so he can press those same damp lips to Kyungsoo’s ear. “How far he can take you. He won’t go any further until you do.” Jongin’s hand that still sits in his own squeezes. “But I think he really, really wants to.”


	4. Two years ago...

Chanyeol gags perfectly, hinging his jaw to keep it open wide enough as spit runs unchecked down his chin. It trickles over the hand Yeøl has around his throat but he doesn’t seem to care in the slightest so Chanyeol ignores the mess too, eyes fluttering shut as Yeøl’s fingers shift, feeling along the column of his oesophagus greedily as he pushes his cock in another inch.

“Fuck… he really can take it,” Yeøl moans, hips bucking enough that Chanyeol obediently lowers his tongue and sticks it out in an attempt at providing as much space in his mouth and throat for dick as possible. More spit slips out, unchecked. “I can feel it from outside.”

“Told you,” Loey growls, tightening his grip on Chanyeol’s hips where he’s hiked his ass high enough into the air that Loey can fuck him while on his knees on the bed. “He loves it. Well trained little slut,” he adds, shoving in deep and hard.

Chanyeol whines as best he can and spreads his trembling legs, rocking himself back and forth between the two thick cocks that are _wrecking_ him from both ends. Fuckfuck _fuck_. He’s half out of his mind tonight on the high of the forbidden threesome, the dirty sounds of lube mixing with the groans of the two who are using him like a rag doll and the desperate, spit-slick suckling Chanyeol is doing every time he’s allowed to breathe around that fat, swollen cock. God. He’s begged for this, taunted, teased, wiggled his ass at the pair until they couldn’t ignore it any longer. Until they snapped. And tonight… Chanyeol gets the dicking down he wanted so badly. And more.

“Hold him still,” Yeøl grunts, yanking on his handful of soft hair and pushing a finger into the mess he’s making of Chanyeol’s mouth, alongside his cock. It stretches Chanyeol’s lips obscenely wide and Yeøl drags the rest of his fingers indulgently through the mess of spit and and precum layering Chanyeol’s cheeks as he blinks wetly up, trying to focus. “I wanna enjoy this.”

“Fuck off,” Loey laughs back, landing a hard smack on top of the other red welts lining the peach of Chanyeol’s asscheeks that makes him _whine_. God. _More_. “You think this ends when we come?” Loey fucks back into Chanyeol with force, shoving him forward onto heavy dick he’s drooling around until Chanyeol feels his eyes spill over and tears mingle with the mess. “He wanted this. He’s gonna get it until he can’t _walk_.”

“Think we should let him come too?” Yeøl muses, withdrawing his fingers to scoop up the tears and shove both hands back into Chanyeol’s hair, dragging the filth everywhere. Chanyeol takes it like he’s taken everything else tonight; with a grateful suck of cock. Yeøl hisses and Chanyeol arches back into Loey, being perfect for them both. Their little slut. So well trained. He begs with his eyes. _Please let me come. I’ll do anything you want-_

Loey scratches deeply across one of the welts and Chanyeol finally cries for real, choking.

“Only if we want him to. And even if he doesn’t…” Loey reaches below Chanyeol’s stomach and fondles his dripping, neglected dick. Chanyeol nearly buckles at the pleasure. “He’s going to thank us anyway.”


	5. Six months ago...

Sehůn loves to fuck while high.

The room spins, long strobes of thin lighting swimming languidly through the fog in time to the club beat. Sehůn’s head lolls as he follows one for a few moments, smiling indulgently at the feel of the mouth sucking kisses up his neck.

Layers of rumpled sheets below him shiver along his naked skin like a hundred thousand brushes of fingers; more pleasure on top of the hands on his body. He doesn’t know how many are enjoying him tonight. He lost count after five joined the bed on the club floor, the rest of the nameless, faceless others left to dance and grind against each other to the pulsing music until there’s space and Sehůn extends a hand for more company.

There’s two mouths sucking his cock and Sehůn drops a hand to the back of each head, holding them in place as he thrusts lazily again and again until their owners become more interested in each other, their kisses around the head of his wet cock distracting them.

Sehůn lets them go and rolls over onto his stomach when they tangle up in each other, tipping his head back and letting his mouth fall open invitingly. Immediately a thick cock and several fingers press in, stuffing him full through the mess already slicking Sehůn’s lips and chin. He moans around his warm new mouthful and the fingers retreat, petting down his side.

Sehůn arches his back like a cat, his head swimming with the countless beautiful bodies that press up and around him; legs and cocks and slick skin that make him want to come again and again because fuck, if he just opens his legs he knows the eager mouth sucking bites up the back of his thighs will eat him out. And Sehůn _wants_ that. Wants the different hands and the tongues and the cocks that come to the club every night to indulge in how much Sehůn loves to take. To fuck in public, this orgy of misty lights and sounds and Sehůn swallows as a new, extra hand strokes the cock half in his mouth and the first guy comes too eagerly at the dual stimulation, spilling hot and thick. Sehůn lets the last pulses of it decorate his chin and thrusts against the bed to relieve how much his dick aches when he’s treated like this. God yeah.

A different pair of hands pull the shivering man away and their owner takes his place, kissing the man near Sehůn’s shoulder as they slowly jerk each other off above his face and Sehůn laps at what he can reach between those bobbing hands, slicking up their movements. Someone grabs at his hair from behind and Sehůn spreads his legs eagerly, feeling the mouth at the top of his thighs lick up and between his cheeks.

Hazy and covered in far too much come to count, Sehůn reaches behind himself and pulls at one of his cheeks obligingly, still rutting languidly against the mattress. The hand in his hair twists his head to one side and Sehůn goes blindly, mouth already open and pink tongue out as the the eager mouth behind starts rimming him in long, luxurious licks.

Sehůn’s loose enough that it’s not needed but he lets the other indulge, squeezing a hand down below himself to push his cock downwards to peek out from between his thighs. Immediately the mouth laves a wet trail back and forth from his hole, down Sehůn’s balls and to his cockhead, a continuous loop of pleasure that makes Sehůn moan thickly around the dick that’s shoved into his mouth, fucking him steadily now.

Another spurt of come splatters over the small of Sehůn’s back in warm ropes and Sehůn reaches up, blindly, to stroke the last few drops out before the figure staggers off. Fuck. Sehůn bobs his head in time with the cock he’s blowing, pushing back into the anonymous mouth taking him higher and higher until Sehůn feels the pleasure pooling hotly in his stomach explode and he comes, gagging as his throat relaxes enough for the person to push home into his throat and unload with a punched-out groan while Sehůn trembles and whimpers, drowning, floating… forgetting.

The hand in his hair playfully slaps Sehůn’s cheek one or twice as he pulls out. A mouth from somewhere else chases the string of spit that connects the man’s dick to Sehůn’s mouth and Sehůn moans weakly into the kiss as aftershocks rock him, leaving him trembling and still hard. Still wanting more. Fuck. _Please_.

The mouth is rough, biting just this side of perfect and Sehůn’s lips slip and stick against it as he laps up everything he’s been anointed with, pushing it into the other’s mouth as they kiss. It’s only when Sehůn hears his name being called that he realizes he’s closed his eyes in the throes of orgasm.

Red hair fills his vision. Just as the other person behind slides two fingers into his puffy hole, Sehůn sees it. A ghost.

“Be careful,” Suhø says from inches away, kissing him one last time. “They’re coming.”

Sehůn blinks and the fog reappears, coating everything except the bodies slowly writhing around him. His fingers feel numb again. Someone slides home, hitting his prostate and Sehůn throws his head back, pushing up onto his knees to get a better angle. To get fucked better. Longer. Harder.

He forgets the ghost. That was the whole point of this anyway. To overwrite what little he could remember.


	6. One week ago...

__

_You have trained for this. You bear powers beyond mortal men and the scars that come with them. You have been designed in our moment of greatest need to fight that which we cannot. You are the Augmented. Reborn in the vastness of space, you will die there. This is your lot in life for you once willingly volunteered for it. Never forget._

_You do not live. You do not laugh. You do not lose._

_You are mankind’s ultimate weapon._

_You are the nine._

Chanyeøl jolts awake in the dark, chest heaving. He has only the count of three heavy breaths before the ship pitches sideways and the sound of multiple bodies being thrown out of nearby bunks follows.

The ship-wide alarm sounds half a second later. Chanyeøl has already anticipated it and is on his feet, kicking the tangle of blankets out from under the others still scrambling on the floor. A second explosion detonates and the entire spaceship bucks, creaking metal and ruptured engines. Two of the bodies at his feet no longer move so Chanyeøl doesn’t spare them a second glance, yanking his calibrated weapon from it’s stand instead.

The engineer at the bridge sweats nervously as Chanyeøl strides through, ducking under the helm. Chanyeøl ignores his glances at the scars that run down the sides of his chin and neck, parallel to the bones beneath; white and thin now with years gone by.

“Status report. What’s firing at us?”

The engineer scrambles to bring up the holo-display, fingers shaking. A spiked and chain-filled ship flickers into view, bristling with weapons.

“Sir. I-I ran the calibrations against the class and model twice. It’s an Augment vessel.”

Chanyeøl freezes. “That’s impossible.”

“I know but-”

Chanyeøl ignores him, mesmerized by the twinkling blue display of the ship as it spins amongst the stars. “There haven’t been any Augment ships since the last war.”

There haven’t been any _Augments_.

Reaching past the other man Chanyeøl slaps the switch for the broadcast channel, narrowing the communications line until it reaches the other ship, still readying its ion lasers for another rake across their side.

“This is Chanyeøl of the sector patrol ship Exodus. Power down and show yourself!”

The ion weapons continue to charge for a split second longer- then fizzle out. The engineer next to Chanyeøl has almost stopped breathing. The smell of smoke pouring up from the lower decks is nauseating. Then with a flicker of static a voice not heard in forever echoes down the line.

“Sixty-one?”

Chanyeol drops his weapon.

“ _Baëkhyun?”_


	7. Now.

Sehůn snarls as the heavy cover to his minuscule cage is whipped back, the flickering lighting in the ship’s hull stinging hard after far too long under the dark material. Baring his teeth is all he can do with his hands cuffed behind his back but he unfurls his shoulders to their full width and fills the cage as best he can on his knees, face furious. He won’t go down without a fight. He won’t…

One of the voices from above belongs to his captor; a Red-Sector contracted bounty hunter who had been patrolling this quarter of space and outsmarted Sehůn several months back. Then caged him like an animal in the bowels of his floating torture vessel when Sehůn had disemboweled one of his henchmen who had tried to unlock his former cell in the dead of night to overpower him and… worse. So Sehůn knows what’s likely coming next and he’s ready, hobbled as he is, to take down as many as he can before he’s killed.

“As you can see he’s a fierce little dog. Killed three of my men before we could even take him into custody. Then another guard the following night. Mutated him. If you Red-Sector bastards want this thing that bad you can have him for two hundred thousand ‘dens.”

Another figure joins the captor and Sehůn shakes his head to clear it, blinking up at the other man. All he can make out through the strobe lighting is dark red hair. Then the man speaks and his voice couldn’t be more different than the first.

“Two hundred thousand denominations? Sold. Have my offsider settle it with you.” The man attached to the voice crouches down in front of the small cage and Sehůn sees him clearly for the first time; he smiles, two front teeth slightly imperfect but his eyes kind. Sehůn knows his mind is playing tricks again.

“I’m going to get you out of there,” the man promises quietly, reaching a finger into the cage cautiously.

Sehůn lunges and snaps at the hand, teeth closing a hair’s breath away from drawing blood as the man barely yanks his finger back just in time. Sehůn’s shoulder lands heavily against the bars and he howls, thrashing. His eyes tell the man that no matter his words, the moment he’s free he’s going to kill him and fill a bath with his entrails. That he’s going to paint pictures in his blood. That he’s-

The man… nods. He looks almost apologetic. “Put a muzzle on him.”

Sehůn’s captor motions to his left and a minion appears with a tray, clanking along the decaying metal broadwalk like some kind of rat. When he gets close enough Sehůn spots the needle and flings himself around again, smacking into the sides of the bars again and again. His fingernails behind him chip against the metal and he yells; wordless, furious sounds. The red-haired man spins around from where he had stood up and was about to step aside. “No! No tranquilizers.”

The bounty hunter looks like the other man is mad. “Why the fuck not? He needs to be sedated to move him.”

The flame-haired man clears his throat and looks back at Sehůn; at how desperately he shakes his head, flung back against the furtherest reaches of the cage. His eyes flick around the filthy innermost hull of the spaceship. Finally they settle on an object at the back and the man points.

“Keep his arms secured. Muzzle and that harness. I want him able to walk.”

The bounty hunter spits onto the metal. “Whatever mister. He’s your rabid dog now.”

* * * The interior of the new ship is far, far better than where Sehůn has spent the last few months. Cleaner and brighter, it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust. The man leading him turns and notices Sehůn’s constant squinting.

“Too strong? I can have them adjusted to more ambient levels.”

Sehůn shakes his head, the lock on his muzzle clinking. He forces his pale eyes to adjust to the level of the lighting just like he’s forced everything else. His body will adapt. It always does. He doesn’t even feel the cold any more; the harness and heavy black pants more coverage than he’s had in months. He’s become used to nothing but bare skin after all. No one used clothes where he’d been.

The peculiar man leads them through a winding series of corridors and past doors secured up above tiny ladders. It reminds Sehůn of something he thinks he should know, but so many things are lost to the red fog now that he doesn’t bother attempting to dig any deeper. All that matters is pleasure and pain, food and safety. If violence secures the latter of those two things then so be it. If sex manifests in the first two, it’s no real difference. Life is as Sehůn has made it. What he can remember, anyway.

The door they apparently want is the largest of the lot, located at the back. When the redhead opens the door Sehůn recoils. The man looks over his shoulder, dark eyebrows raised.

“What? Don’t like soft things?”

Sehůn growls, long and low. The room is _hideous_. Small fluffy creatures decorate every metallic surface, all with similar pairs of protrusions from their heads. The puffy bed in the centre is… Sehůn shakes his head. _Who lives like this in space?_

The man turns fully and faces Sehůn. “You may have figured out by now that I’m not exactly working for the Red-Sector. My name is Junmyeon,” he says quietly, looking Sehůn in the eye. “And this is my living quarters. Does it offend you?”

Sehůn narrows his eyes. For some reason that makes Junmyeon laugh. It’s a light sound; something Sehůn hasn’t heard in a lifetime. Junmyeon leads him inside and Sehůn’s old boots leave crusted flecks of blood on the floor. He picks his legs up like a cat in booties, suddenly conscious that he’s staining-

Junmyeon turns as Sehůn has one knee upraised, peering at his mess. His lopsided smile brings one cheek up into a gentle puff. “Don’t worry about it. It’s what we have cleaning sentinels for. However,” he crosses over to one of the nearby shelves and picks up the smallest fluffball, bringing it up to Sehůn’s eye-height. “If you pull the stuffing out of any of my bunnies once your hands are free, there will be dire consequences. You understand?”

Sehůn leans forward until the tip of his muzzle rests against the strange thing. Junmyeon squeezes and it makes a little squeaking sound.

Sehůn growls at it.

Junmyeon takes the toy back. “Glad we’re in agreement. “

* * *

Junmyeon unlocks Sehůn’s muzzle that night. He places it aside as Sehůn sits perched on the end of the absurd bed in his harness and filth-stained pants, feeling more out of place than he was in the sewers of the last galaxy’s most grimiest planet or a transfer club at the height of opulence. There’s something fuzzy poking the tips of his bound hands but he doesn’t deign to twist around to find out what it is. Junmyeon looks over at the muzzle’s new home on his desk and then pulls a chair over to sit opposite Sehůn, just out of range.

“I don’t want you to have to wear that ever again, but you’re going to have to help me.” He raises a hand and watches Sehůn track it with his silver eyes. “No more biting.”

Sehůn snarls faintly. He keeps watching the hand as Junmyeon wafts it back and forth, mentally calculating the distance between his current position and Junmyeon’s pale throat. He could reach the carotid artery before Junmyeon could call for his crew, tear it open-

Junmyeon places the smallest bunny on Sehůn’s knee. Sehůn startles, looking down at the stupid thing. When it doesn’t pierce him or explode he flicks his eyes back up to Junmyeon.

“I get it. You attack when I go to touch you. So no touching until you’re ready.” Junmyeon says softly. “But until then you need to get used to the idea that not everything is going to harm you after your time on that torture ship. So we’re starting with bunnies.”

Sehůn huffs and turns away, staring at a point on the wall. He bounces his knee and the toy falls off.

Junmyeon calmly picks it back up and places it back on Sehůn’s knee. Then he sits back and opens a holo-display on his wrist, flicking to what looks like a book. He crosses his leg and begins to read.

Sehůn flicks the bunny off again. Goes back to watching Junmyeon’s pulse.

* * *

Sehůn startles awake, the chain connecting him to his bed pulling taught with a rattle as he screams. He sits up in a rush of choking breath and distorted memories.

No. Dreams. _They’re just dreams._

Heaving on his ragged inhales, Sehůn doesn’t notice the light outside his small cabin blinking on. But the next second his door slides open in a whoosh; the spilling hallway light makes Sehůn hiss and curl back on himself instinctively but it’s blocked out almost immediately by the bulk of a crew member. Sehůn doesn’t know his name. Doesn’t know any of them. Doesn’t bother. Bodies don’t need names.

The crew member goes to approach but Sehůn roars at him and flings himself to the end of his short chain’s length. He hits the max length of it within a step or two but he doesn’t care, wrenching at his joints as he howls. Sehůn’s arms are still cuffed behind his back and his ankles attached to the same chain that keeps him from the doorway, but he makes it _very_ plain that if the man approaches he will rip him apart. In bite-sized pieces.

The crew member wisely halts in the doorway. Then he makes a placating gesture with his hands and steps back. Looking to someone Sehůn can’t see on his side he nods. “He’s okay. Tell Junmyeon.”

The other crew member says something but the man in the doorway shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. Wake him up. He asked to be notified of any incidents during the night.”

The door finally, blessedly closes. Sehůn slumps, hanging off the end of his chain. At least his muzzle is off; he’s passed out before a few times fighting to breathe through one of them before. Finally he flops back onto the bed and curls his knees up.

The dreams don’t come again. When Sehůn wakes up at the proper hour there’s a tiny bunny toy next to his stomach.

* * *

“I want to untie your hands,” Junmyeon says several days later as Sehůn sullenly balances a pair of bunnies on his knees. “But I kind of like my head attached to my neck.”

He sounds regretful. They’re both in their now-customary positions in Junmyeon’s quarters which seems to be how Junmyeon wants to spend most of his days as they drift through space; trying to get Sehůn accustomed to the non-violent side of being touched by things while Sehůn glares a hole through the wall.

“Did you feel like telling me your name today?”

Sehůn keeps his eyes on the wall. He ignores Junmyeon, balancing the ridiculous stuffed animals because it usually gets Junmyeon to read quietly and not attempt pointless conversation. He’s contemplating kicking them off when Junmyeon speaks again.

“How about I tell you, then. You’re Oh Sehůn. Designation 94.”

Sehůn’s eyes snap back to Junmyeon instantly. Junmyeon smiles, unperturbed and leans forward.

“Your memory extends back only as far as the last eight lunar cycles. You can’t remember where you came from or who you were before that because a fog seems to cover everything in your head when you try. You have fever sweats. Nightmares. Of a past that is no longer yours.”

Sehůn’s mouth falls open. He’s shuffled forward unthinkingly, eventually far enough that both the bunnies fall off. That brings him back to himself and Sehůn freezes, several inches from Junmyeon in his metallic chair. It’s the closest they’ve ever been since Sehůn was bought from the bounty hunter.

“Who are you?” Sehůn rasps in a whisper, voice hoarse from not being used for anything other than guttural sounds for so long.

Junmyeon sits back in his chair, relaxed and open. “The real question,” he says gently. “Is who are you?”

Sehůn sags, his restrains clinking. “I’m no one. Not any more.”

“Wrong.” Junmyeon shakes his head with finality.

Sehůn fixes his eyes on his dirty boots as Junmyeon stands up, mind going a million miles a minute and encountering road-blocks every time he tries probing back too far. _Red. It’s all red. It’s-_

Junmyeon crouches down in front of Sehůn like he did in the torture ship. Only this time there’s no bars in between them. Sehůn drags his eyes up slowly, finding Junmyeon looking at the bloodied burn mark slicing down his face.

“The very beginning of your memory contains how you ended up with this.” Junmyeon sounds strangely upset. “But you also think that’s the point you escaped from the training facility the Red-Sector had been engineering you all in.”

Sehůn tracks the pulse in Junmyeon’s throat. _Ba dump. Ba dump_. “How do you know all this?”

Junmyeon is close enough to hit. To barrel into and to tear open. He smiles again. “Because I know your kind.”

Sehůn jerks on his chains, just to watch the momentary fear in Junmyeon’s eyes. “There _is_ no ‘my kind’,” he snarls. “There hasn’t been in years. I’m the only one left.”

Junmyeon reaches out along the floor without taking his eyes off Sehůn. He retrieves the bunnies from where they’ve rolled to and places them on Sehůn’s legs; higher this time. The two fluffy things wobble on top of his thighs. “You’re not as alone as you think.”

Sehůn shakes, the anger and helplessness from his dreams pouring back, uncontrolled and summoned. “I watched them all _die_.” He can’t keep his voice down now that he’s started talking and the only crystal clear memories Sehůn has come bubbling out like an overflowing sink. “In front of me! _Around_ me! I was the only one to make it out of that hellscape!”

Junmyeon shakes his head. For some reason that infuriates Sehůn and he bares his teeth, nearly wrenching his shoulder out of its socket as he yanks hard, trying to close that last short distance…

“Baëkhyun is alive. So is Kāi. And Chën. Which means the others likely are too.”

Sehůn freezes with his teeth an inch from Junmyeon’s throat. He exhales wetly against the unflinching skin. Junmyeon rolls his neck to one side to give him a clean attack point but Sehůn doesn’t move.

“You lie,” he manages.

Junmyeon rocks gently back onto his heels. It brings his face back into view. “I found Chën first, in the R’dium quadrant. Baëkhyun was next more than a year later. He’s the most stable now so I’ve sent him out to try and find more of you. I’ve known Kāi’s location for a while and he’s not moving so he’s safe for now. Chanyeøl was my latest lead, which Baëkhyun is headed towards now but someone matching your description came up on the black market so I came straight for this sector.”

Sehůn realizes he’s been holding his breath. He registers that at the same time as he comes to feel a faint warmth on his knee. He looks down

Junmyeon’s hand rests against the speckled, torn material of his right knee. Doing nothing, just existing in the same space as Sehůn’s body. Several inches lower down than a fluffy bunny butt. In contact with him. Sehůn inhales sharply and Junmyeon lifts his hand off, pushing back to his feet.

“That will do for today, I think.” He moves for the door, presumably to start making some kind of food. Junmyeon enjoys routine and it’s strangely… soothing. Predictable. Things happening at the same time each circadian cycle on a space ship that knows neither days nor nights in their true form helps differentiate things. Despite burning with the need to ask more, Sehůn approves of this. His knee also feels tingly.

He flops back on Junmyeon’s ugly puffy cover and stares at the ceiling until his eyes close. He wakes up eight hours later covered in a mound of bunnies. Sehůn entertains the delicious idea of decapitating each one and Junmyeon’s expressions when he sees his precious collection in shreds.

In the end Sehůn doesn’t go through with it. The bunnies stay. Sehůn sleeps and doesn’t dream.

* * *

“Untie my hands,” Sehůn demands the moment Junmyeon walks in balancing two small boxes of protein compound the following morning. Junmyeon holds one out to Sehůn and faces the straw the correct way for him to suckle.

“What guarantee do I have that you won’t rip me in half the moment I do?”

Sehůn sullenly finishes the disgusting nutrition compound before replying. “Tell me about the others,” he replies. “Tell me things about Baëkhyun and Kāi and Chën. And I won’t kill you until you make a mistake.”

Junmyeon raises his eyebrows over the top of his own drink. “Oh that’s encouraging,” he says flatly. “Sure, let me get right on that.”

Sehůn glowers up at him from around his straw. “Will you do the… other thing too?”

Junmyeon blinks. “The—you mean touch you?”

Sehůn nods. Junmyeon pops off his straw and tugs Sehůn’s away too, placing both boxes amid the fluffy ensemble on his desk. “If you want me to.”

Sehůn sits up straighter and fixes his gaze on the wall. “Whatever.”

There’s the faintest thread of amusement in Junmyeon’s tone as he circles around to one side of the bed. “As you wish.”

Sehůn feels the faintest weight on his head and can’t stop the way he clenches up, startling. But the soft figure bouncing off his shoulder informs him it’s not Junmyeon’s hand. “Did you just put one of those things on my _head?_ ”

Junmyeon replaces the bunny. “If it comes off again I’ll put the cuffs back on.”

Sehůn scoffs, patiently holding his head still this time. “Your life is on the line with my ultimatum and yours in turn is a _toy?_ ”

The pressure on his wrists suddenly clicks open and Junmyeon returns into Sehůn’s field of vision pocketing a key. “Seems a fair trade to me.”

“You’re an idiot,” Sehůn grumbles, rolling his shoulders to try and get the blood-flow back into his cramped muscles. Without dislodging the bunny. Junmyeon laughs.

“You assume you’re going to be able to snap my neck.”

Sehůn massages his chafed wrists, nearly rubbed raw from his time in the cage. “And why won’t I?”

Junmyeon sits opposite him and holds out his hands, palm up. “Because I’ll be holding your weapons.”

“My…”

Junmyeon wiggles his fingers and Sehůn eyes him pitifully. “You’re joking.”

Junmyeon’s cheeks are friendly puffs. “Nope. Hand them over.”

Sehůn rolls his eyes. “I’ll drink your blood from the chalice of your skull after this is over.” But he places his hands into Junmyeon’s slowly, like they’re something poisonous. Junmyeon leaves his fingers flat, deliberately not gripping hold and Sehůn wills himself to relax. “Now talk.”

Junmyeon meets his gaze. “Chanyeøl’s location was a tipoff from within the Sector so I can’t give you any information yet. But I’m hoping to in the next couple of days. Kāi is located on old-Earth. I don’t know why he gravitated back there but I have his location locked.”

“Which sin is he indulging in?” Sehůn shoots back. Junmyeon doesn’t hesitate.

“Sex. The same as I believe you were, if I’m to trust my sources. Baëkhyun is more prone to violence, the same as Chanyeøl. Chën is a mix of both from what records I can find.”

Sehůn narrows his eyes. “And you?”

Junmyeon blinks at this. “Me?”

“You… remind me of someone.” Sehůn mutters. “I thought—no it’s a mess,” he grumbles, shoving the heel of one hand into his eye. “The escape scrambled me pretty badly. And seeing what happened to the others during it I… shut down.”

“You lost yourself,” Junmyeon supplies. “You turned to the transference process to saturate your days with sex. If you were feeling pleasure you didn’t have to think.”

“How do you-” Sehůn yanks his hands back. The bunny wobbles dangerously. “Shut up,” he breathes. “You know nothing.”

Junmyeon lays his hands flat again; open. “Kāi did the same. That’s my only reading as to why he went back to old-earth. He’s eternally looking, even if he doesn’t realize it.”

“For twelve,” Sehůn breathes. Junmyeon nods.

“He misses him. Thinks he’s dead. That you _all_ are. But that’s what you were each conditioned to believe. It was the only way to keep you under control. You were too powerful together otherwise.”

Sehůn slowly places his hands back into Junmyeon’s palms. “And what were we?”

Junmyeon looks him in the eye. “You’re Augments.”

Sehůn blanches. “How do you know that word?”

“I would have thought you’d have figured that part out by now.” It’s said softly, with no mockery. Sehůn narrows his eyes.

“I still see his face everywhere I look. On every person in every crowd. I even thought I saw him…” Sehůn trails off, licking his lips. “Six months ago. Before I was captured. He was—he tried to warn me. At least I thought he did.”

“He did.”

Sehůn turns his hands over of his own accord and takes hold of Junmyeon’s fingers. His grip grows steadily stronger until Junmyeon looks down.

“What are you doing?”

Sehůn leans in. He studies Junmyeon’s face for a long minute. He traces every line he knows. Every dip and curve. Every feature he’s had burned into his mind, every hallucination… only this time it’s real and Sehůn feels the blood drain from his face. He drops Junmyeon’s hands and jerks back. The bunny falls.

“No.”

It’s _not_ a hallucination this time.

Junmyeon sits back, massaging feeling back into his fingers. “I’m the original donor of designation one’s DNA. You know him as Suhø.”

Sehůn scrambles back onto the bed, all flailing arms and legs. The pastel cover underneath him crumples up and several soft toys fall to the floor. “It can’t be.”

Junmyeon stands. “Each of us was selected based on our fields. My unit specialized in aquatic reconnaissance and coordinated attacks on planets that were over ninety percent water. I volunteered for the program because I graduated at the top of my devision.”

Sehůn presses back against the headboard, shaking his head vehemently. “The donors died during the extraction process. We were _told_.”

“You were told a great many things. Most of it was to keep you under control. The ultimate weapons for the Red-Sector to use as they expanded humanity’s presence throughout the galaxy.” Junmyeon reaches the bed and sits down on the end of it, keeping a respectful distance. “Only you proved far more powerful than even their finest scientists could have ever predicted.”

Sehůn trembles for the very first time in the eight years of memory he holds. Junmyeon continues gently.

“ _You do not live. You do not laugh. You do not lose_ ,” he quotes the prime directive back at Sehůn. “Which meant they couldn’t destroy you themselves. But they knew you would escape eventually; it was inevitable that you’d grow too much to contain. So they did the only other thing they could.”

“They made us all believe the others were dead.”

Junmyeon smiles sadly. “Those injuries you have? The ones that never seem to heal? They were inflicted the night you all escaped. But not by Sector laser fire or explosions or any of the other carnage you remember as you ran for your lives.”

Sehůn swallows heavily. Junmyeon continues.

“They were seared into you as you all lay strapped to a surgery table one by one, under heavy sedation. Then you were given those artificial memories and transported to the edges of the galaxy. Nine Augments. Nine different directions.”

_You are the nine._

Sehůn covers his face with his hands. “I don’t believe all this. I can’t.”

“Think. Ask yourself that how even as a donor I know what happened to you that night?”

“You could be lying,” Sehůn grits out. “And I’ll still kill you for it.”

“You don’t need to believe me. Or kill me.” Junmyeon reaches across the small distance to his desk and depresses a control button. “But this may give you the proof you need.”

The hydraulic hiss of the door opening makes Sehůn glance up. A figure walks around the frame and steps inside.

His jacket is as red as his hair. As red as Junmyeon’s. As red as Sehůn’s memories. His tears and his blood and his soul.

Suhø smiles. Sehůn freezes, his heart hammering.

Junmyeon steps away from the bed and moves around to the chain that connects Sehůn’s ankle to the bedpost. “There’s one thing that the Red-Sector never predicted or counted on. The reason all this is possible.” He produces the key and unlocks the final padlock. “They never expected you all to bond the way you did. You were designed to kill. Not to love.”

Sehůn hears the chain clink loose, feels it go slack and for the first time since he was ambushed in the club and permanent pleasure was replaced with unending violence he’s _free_.

Sehůn launches off the bed and aims a clenched fist at Suhø’s head.

Suhø catches the punch in midair. With a smirk that pierces Sehůn’s heart he twists the fist in his grip, bending Sehůn’s forearm and elbow to one side. Hard.

Sehůn responds in a flash by hooking a leg around the back of Suhø’s knee and shoving with his free hand, sending him tumbling. But Suhø grabs for the harness Sehůn still wears and yanks him down as well; they hit the floor in a jumble of limbs and Sehůn lands on top, straddling Suhø as he wrenches his arm free and brings an elbow down towards Suhø’s now-exposed neck.

In a flash Suhø crosses his forearms above his head and blocks the strike, shoving back hard enough that Sehůn off-balances. So Suhø uses the momentary distraction to buck him off, swinging a knee out towards Sehůn’s stomach as he sprawls on the carpet.

The move is as easy to predict as a water current and Sehůn sees it coming; he deflects the leg, crunching his abdomen to flip himself to his feet. He watches Suhø mirror the movement, toss his spiked hair back and grin at him; its so familiar it tears Sehůn’s heart apart. He swings again, no longer any finesse in his movements. Because of it Suhø reads him easily and with a single swipe knocks his punch aside which brings Sehůn in far too close. A rookie mistake.

Suhø catches Sehůn’s shoulder and takes his momentum with his own body as they stumble back and hit the nearby wall. Plaster cracks; the breath leaves Suhø’s lungs and Sehůn replaces it with his own, slamming their mouths together. He grabs Suhø’s head with both hands and angles his face to the side until he’s exactly where Sehůn wants and he can lap at his mouth, wet and so, so needy.

Suhø makes a sound like he’s dying and snags Sehůn’s harness, yanking him impossibly closer until there’s not a molecule between them; attempting to climb into his body. He wrestles Sehůn around and shoves him back against the plaster instead, flaking more off in the process and pushing at Sehůn’s mouth, slipping in to suck on his tongue. Sehůn finds his hands torn away and raised as Suhø pins them both beside his head, tangling their fingers tightly. Desperately.

Sehůn doesn’t cry. None of them ever have. But he closes his eyes and swallows hard.

Suhø tears their mouths apart and pants faintly against his cheek, voice thick. “I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

Sehůn breaks. He winds a leg around Suhø’s hip and grinds against him. With a growl Suhø pins him to the wall and even though he’s always been the shorter of the two of them he exudes the same control Sehůn has always known. He understands Sehůn’s body in ways no one else ever has, no matter how many times Sehůn lost himself in different pleasure-soaked orgies. It was never the same. Never that rush, that deep dark urge to submit to Suhø’s hands and mouth and the filthiest commands he gave Sehůn in his perpetually gentle voice.

Sehůn drags his hands free and fumbles for Suhø’s blood red jacket, shoving the stupid accessory off his shoulders and all but ripping the leather waistcoat underneath it off seconds later. He _needs_. He needs the one thing he thought he’d lost forever.

Suhø’s cups Sehůn’s chin in one hand once his arms are free from material, immediately stilling his frantic movements. “Easy, little bun,” he murmurs and Sehůn sobs out a small sound, panting. His cock is a too-hard line in his dark pants and he’s trembling fit to burst. But he holds still because he’s been _told_ to. God.

Suhø takes his time looking Sehůn’s shaking form from head to toe and back again as if committing him to memory.

“Take me,” Sehůn blurts as Suhø’s eyes meet him again. He can’t help it. _If you don’t I’ll die_. “Please.”

Suhø smiles; a long, slow curve of his lips that used to prelude him whispering dark, dirty things into Sehůn’s ear as he railed him from behind. He drags a ring down Sehůn’s cheek, across the scar that burns through his right eye. He looks pained for a second but Sehůn doesn’t want that, doesn’t want his care. He wants to feel owned. Whole.

So he replaces his hands on the wall beside his head and slowly slides them behind his skull. His fingers interlock. And Suhø’s eyes go dark at the old signal.

“Down,” he commands.

Sehůn drops to his knees. Like he’s done in countless battlefields and bedrooms. It never mattered to them. If Suhø commanded it Sehůn would kneel on a graveyard. He has done before.

Suhø curls his hand around the two larger ones on the back of Sehůn’s head, his other going to the join on his pants and Sehůn’s mouth _waters_ in a Pavlovian response _._ Suhø is hard too; always is with Sehůn begging for him to take control, to make him forget everything else. And as he peels back the belt piece Sehůn moves to lean forward. The hand that grips his own interlocked pair halts him.

“Impatient,” Suhø murmurs as if he’s not straining at his zipper, thick and heavy. His control absolutely fascinates Sehůn and destroys him every time. “So for that you can use your teeth.”

Sehůn whimpers, feeling the iron grip release just enough for him to lean into Suhø. He tips his head to the side and takes the zipper between his teeth after several attempts, looking up at Suhø as he drags it down, having to fumble for it as he loses his grip once or twice and _god_ , doing this kind of thing again after so long… Sehůn wriggles, unable to help it, trying to press his thighs together. He’s leaking, twitching against the confines of his pants and all Suhø has done is give him a few simple commands. Sehůn wants to fuck so badly he aches everywhere; wants to worship.

Sehůn doesn’t remember if Junmyeon is even still in the room; knows he’s probably not but he honestly doesn’t care. Suhø is here. That’s all that matters. Because Suhø is guiding his head and Sehůn fucking loves being at his mercy. At his feet. In his bed. Anywhere Suhø will have him.

Suhø tips his head to one side, the golden necklace around his throat glinting in the cabin’s sterile lighting. He raises one eyebrow and the grip on Sehůn’s hands tightens again, just shy of painful. “Did I say to take your time?”

“No sir,” Sehůn breathes around his mouthful. He’s so close he can smell Suhø; deep and so devastatingly turned on. Sehůn’s mouth waters and he tugs the zipper all the way down, risking everything by leaning in and nuzzling Suhø’s cock through the open vee because it may have been eight years but his master still never wears anything underneath.

Wrong move.

Suhø knocks Sehůn’s hands off his head in a blur of inhuman speed, his fist returning to sink into Sehůn’s exposed hair and _yank_.

Sehůn’s mouth goes slack and he stumbles as Suhø drags him up and over to the bed. It’s effortless for Suhø to toss him onto it; Sehůn bounces as his back hits the ridiculous pastel cover and Suhø is there to haul him around until Sehůn’s head is dangling back off the side of the mattress and—oh. Yes. _Fuck_ yes.

Sehůn gazes up as Suhø crowds close, his thighs on either side of Sehůn’s head. With one hand Suhø shoves his own pants down, the other cupping his cock as he strokes it above Sehůn’s eager face. “Hands flat on the bed beside you, bun.” Suhø commands him, his tone brokering no argument. “If you touch yourself I’m leaving.”

Deep down Sehůn _knows_ that no force in this multiverse could make Suhø ever leave him again, but his submissive side thrills at the cruel ultimatum. At the heady thought of being left hard and wanting as his master leaves and tends to his own pleasure elsewhere… Sehůn flattens his hands by his sides, fingers itching to curl delightedly into his palms as Suhø massages a firm hand along his shoulders, bumping over the leather harness.

“Grip your thighs if you think you’re going to touch yourself,” Suhø adds softly, giving Sehůn a little flexibility. His fingertips wander down to play with the centre o-ring. “I’ll tell you if you’re allowed to touch me. Do you understand?”

Sehůn’s nods rapidly as best he can while his head is dangling. “Please,” he rasps, licking his lips. His voice hasn’t sounded this close to floaty in years. “Master.”

Suhø lifts his chin, eyes flashing. “Slap the bed if you want me to stop, little bun.”

Sehůn shakes his head, flinging his hair from side to side. “God no I won’t need to,” he rushes to say and then freezes as Suhø’s gaze hardens.

“Never refuse to use a signal,” he growls and Sehůn trembles at the sudden timbre in his voice. Suhø almost _never_ uses that tone. “If you don’t remember the basic rules I’m not playing.” Then almost like a curtain dropping Suhø’s gaze softens and he raises Sehůn’s head with a soft hand cupped behind it. Crouching down he kisses Sehůn upside down; a long, heartbreakingly slow play of lips that leaves Sehůn breathless and on the verge of breaking apart.

“Color?” Suhø whispers.

“Red,” Sehůn rushes to reassure him, using the backwards version of the traditional code; something they once upon a time dreamt up together and laughed over. It had seemed so fitting for them. Sehůn exhales shakily, wavering on the fragile knife’s edge of Suhø’s decision as to if they continue. Then Suhø kisses him one last time and stands back up, releasing Sehůn’s head.

“I’ll only ask once more. What do you do?” Suhø demands, voice cold. He brings one palm down and lands a smack against Sehůn’s cheek that leaves him _gasping_.

“H-hit the bed!” Sehůn fumbles to cry out. “Hard.”

Suhø’s hand returns to massage away the sting. “Well done, bun. That’s better.”

Sehůn trembles. Suhø resumes palming his own cock, making a fist and stroking himself leisurely in long, tantalizing pulls that - _fuck_ \- have Sehůn panting, arching his pink tongue out invitingly in the desperate hope that-

Suhø pauses his hand as it reaches his crown, squeezing. Fat, glistening droplets bead on his tip and Sehůn moans at the sight. Suhø always did love to get sloppy.

Suhø laughs, low and deep and leans over Sehůn, bringing his cock to just above his face and Sehůn stretches obediently as far as his neck will allow at this angle, tongue flat and open. Suhø reaches out with his spare hand and finds a pebbled nipple, pinching it.

Sehůn gasps, struggling to keep his hands flat on the bed as his torso rises, chasing the pain. He goddamn pulses, his own dick leaking as Suhø tips his cock down and lets the precum drip. Sehůn catches it, the long-absent taste filling his mouth as Suhø feeds it to him. That same wandering hand tweaks Sehůn’s nipple sharply and Sehůn’s hips twist, bucking. He pants, swallowing his gift.

“…God!”

“No,” his master murmurs, amused. “Suhø.”

Sehůn considers for half a second actually rolling his eyes, but the last time he did that Suhø left him strung up on the moon they’d been orbiting with only a secure holographic display of himself in the ship’s shower with several of Sehůn’s biggest toys. So he wisely stays still and the look in Suhø’s eyes says he’s passed the challenge.

In reward Suhø takes hold of the back of Sehůn’s head and extends his head and neck back, angling his cock down so Sehůn can successfully take it in his mouth. Suhø slides home inch by perfect fucking inch.

“Look at you, little bun. Still remembering how to take me so well after all this time.”

Sehůn relaxes his jaw as Suhø pushes back into his throat, inhaling sharply before his airway is blocked. And fuck yes, Sehůn goes heavy-lidded, his limbs slumping as Suhø guides him down.

“God- _oh_ -yeah. Just like that.”

Swearing brokenly under his breath, Suhø stays where he is, rocking slightly until Sehůn is dizzy and so fucking close to that fluffy high he’s been searching for… before pulling back so Sehůn can breathe. The moment he can wheeze in a breath Sehůn sucks on what remains of his mouthful, lapping up the thick spit that trails down Suhø’s cock. It makes Suhø’s thighs shake and in that moment Sehůn realizes just how much Suhø is holding back. For him. Because he asked. Because Suhø knows Sehůn needs this.

Sehůn bobs his head up, trying to fracture a little more of that control and it works; as he’s fucking his mouth on what he can reach of Suhø at this angle the hand in the back of his hair clenches and Suhø finally snaps.

He resettles his stance and bucks his hips, shoving home so smoothly that Sehůn can’t even _gag_. Jesus _fuck_. Sehůn’s eyes water as he brings his knees up for leverage, tipping back further. His hands clench and unclench on nothing. Suhø grunts, letting go of Sehůn’s hair to reach forward for the harness.

“Wouldn’t you love it if I ruined you, hmm? Fucked my lost little toy mercilessly until you remember that you’re my slut.”

Sehůn warbles, hips fucking into empty air as he floats on that voice, hands obediently pinned in place as Suhø uses his grip on the o-ring to haul Sehůn back again and again into his cock. Drool trickles down Sehůn’s cheeks to drip off below his ears as Suhø jerks him roughly back and forth, spitting curses at how fucking perfect Sehůn’s throat is. How much of a whore he is just for Suhø alone and Sehůn rides that euphoria of being used, the fucking perfect second that seems to stretch forever until Suhø places his other hand over Sehůn’s bent and stretched throat, feeling the moving bulge under there.

“I can feel myself in you,” Suhø croons, measuring his rough thrusts like always, muscles shaking and sweating with the effort it takes not to ruin Sehůn’s throat permanently. “You can’t keep still for your master. Want something to screw so badly, get your dick wet.” He laughs, deep and breathy. “Desperation looks good on you.”

Sehun so badly wants to agree because please, _please_ more, but the edges of his vision is creeping with tantalizing black sparkles and he chases after them instead, sinking-

Removing his hand from Sehůn’s throat, Suhø drags his cock back out just enough that Sehůn can suck in a choking, damp inhale. Carefully Suhø’s thumb hinges his jaw open to keep his airway clear. “Three deep breaths for me, bun.”

Sehůn shakes his head, coughing. He can take it. He _wants_ this. He needs the high. Sehůn tries to lick at the inches left in his mouth but Suhø pulls out entirely, making him whimper at the loss.

“ _Breathe_ ,” Suhø intones firmly, landing a firm slap on Sehůn’s cheek that makes him wheeze out and then automatically back in. “For your impudence you can count them too. You’re no use to me if you pass out.”

Sehůn chokes out, “One,”

Another hard slap, on the other cheek this time. “One what?”

“One, master.” Sehůn has to inhale again after speaking and fuck he’d forgotten how clever Suhø was. “Two, master.”

Suhø strokes himself, using Sehůn’s spit to slick the way. He raises one red eyebrow and Sehůn scrambles to finish. He takes a deep breath and feels his muscles tingle as they receive oxygen again. The dark sparkles recede and still feels dizzy, but in a better way now. “Three, master. Thank you.”

Suhø smiles, eyes flicking to Sehůn’s hands as he feeds Sehůn his heavy cock again, leaning over him to plant his hands firmly on the bed beside Sehůn’s chest once he’s sunk in all the way to the base. Sehůn deliberately keeps his hands flat, moaning until he can no longer make any sound except a delirious gurgle. And assured of his sub’s safety after the check-in, Suhø lets himself finally go, fucking Sehůn’s throat in heavy, measured pulses of his hips that spiral Sehůn upward again until he’s scrabbling at the cover beneath him, bunching it into ripples as he’s used, as he drips a filthy puddle that runs down his abs because Suhø’s _phenomenal_ stamina is waning as he wrecks Sehůn’s mouth and runs his own.

“Holy shit baby, that’s it. You can take it. God yes. All the way like I only know you can.”

And then just as Sehůn can’t take it any longer, as he thrashes beneath his dominant, out of his goddamn mind with pleasure, Suhø-

Fuckfuckf _uck_.

Suhø hikes a knee onto the mattress and leans over, sucking Sehůn’s desperate, painfully swollen cock into his mouth right down to the base-

Sehůn pumps his hips and whites out.

He orgasms somewhere in the haze of floating, perfectly disconnected space that rolls with wave after wave of pleasure, emptying himself into the burning warmth of Suhø’s mouth as he sucks him off. Dimly Sehůn registers Suhø tumbling into his own orgasm at the same time, slowing to gentle pushes and pulling out as soon as he’s done to allow Sehůn air again.

Sehůn breathes to the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears, his limbs numb with a thousand fireflies as he floats, secure and safe as Suhø immediately cradles his head and angles him up onto the bed to lie properly. The muscles in Sehůn’s neck burn with extraordinary heat and somewhere in the back of his head Sehůn knows he’ll need care for it at least for a day until his augmented cells restore him to full health.

Suhø’s face comes into view, a few stray droplets of come staining his chin and Sehůn smiles dopily at the sight as Suhø’s deft fingers undo the harness Sehůn has been wearing since his rescue. His arms are heavy noodles as Suhø lifts them out of it one at a time before running a gentle hand down Sehůn’s cheek.

“Back with me yet, little bun?”

Sehůn tracks his mouth as it curves around the words and blinks. Suhø huffs a faint laugh.

“I guess not. Enjoy your headspace a little longer, baby. You’ve earned it.”

And then Suhø climbs up onto the bed beside Sehůn and tugs the heavy sheet up in one huge swoop to cover them both.

Everything goes dark. Sehůn purrs, cocooned off from the world. With only Suhø, who curls around him exactly like he always used to; legs up around Sehůn’s thighs and his head on Sehůn’s left shoulder. He hums a gentle tune and Sehůn wonders what the moisture is behind his eyelids.

He doesn’t let himself sleep, afraid that this would all be a dream if he woke up again. Ever so slowly he drifts back down to himself.

Suhø kisses his neck a hundred times, humming as he does until enough time passes that Sehůn starts to shiver with a different kind of chill and immediately rolls over, clinging onto Suhø with all of his far larger frame. Despite this, Suhø is still larger than life and takes the weight without blinking.

He lifts his chin so Sehůn can burrow into his neck and runs slow circles over one shoulder blade.

“Welcome back.”

Sehůn squeezes tight enough to break mortal bones. Suhø merely chuckles and tells him he loves him so very, very much.

* * *

Junmyeon walks into the room when the circadian rhythm informs the ship that it’s 7am somewhere in the multiverse. He raises his eyebrows at the heat pack Sehůn is holding against the back of his neck as he turns from the window he had been using to look out into the vastness of space. But before Sehůn can glare at him Junmyeon smiles fondly and shrugs.

“At least you didn’t destroy my room.”

Sehůn hesitates, then decides to reply. “Or any of your bunnies.”

Junmyeon’s cheeks puff up. “Or my bunnies. Thank you.”

Sehůn glances back out through the clear, reinforced alloy. “Augments don’t feel guilt,” he mutters. “I could have done it.”

Junmyeon crosses over and this strikes Sehůn as the first time the human has stood beside him while Sehůn is entirely free.

“But you didn’t.” Junmyeon sounds proud.

Sehůn snorts.

Junmyeon stands shoulder to almost-shoulder with Sehůn and looks out the window at the starscape whisking by. “That was the Red-Sector’s ultimate problem with all of you,” he murmurs to the void.

Sehůn flicks his eyes to the side, taking in Junmyeon’s profile; the one so familiar that he had thought his desperate mind was playing him with again. He’d seen a thousand Suhøs in the last several years. Wishful thinking.

“What was?”

Junmyeon turns to face Sehůn as Suhø walks out of the bathroom, toweling his hands off. “You started to feel,” he replies, looking between them both. “The one thing Augments were never designed to do. The nine of you all developed emotions. Towards each other.”

Sehůn automatically looks to Suhø and the move pulls a wonderful memory in his neck. Suhø flicks his red-rimmed eyes to Junmyeon and nods in agreement.

“It’s the reason they had to deal with us. They knew that if they attempted to kill us outright at the facility and even _one_ of us was left alive to remember… we’d destroy them. So they opted for the only other option. They released _us_.”

Sehůn inhales. “That’s a bit of what Junmyeon told me. They made us believe we really had escaped, but that in the process nearly all of us had died trying.”

“All except for what seemed like ourselves.” Suhø frowns. “We each needed to believe that we were the last. Banished to the ends of the known universe, we would never even try to look for each other that way.”

Sehůn’s growls in frustration, whirling back to Junmyeon. “Then how are we together again? You _knew_ to look for me. For the others.”

It’s Suhø who answers instead. “Because I told him. My implanted memories fractured over the years and I began to question what I had known. Why I couldn’t remember anything until just before the escape attempt. It took me years. And then I found Junmyeon, purely by chance.”

Sehůn thinks this over. “You always were the strongest,” he murmurs, shaking his head. Something he’s not felt in forever drifts through him: exhaustion. And a simmering, deep anger at _everything_. At the universe, at the twisted hand they had been dealt, at the others—Sehůn snaps his head up. “The others. You told me about Chën, Baëkhyun, Kāi and hopefully Chanyeøl. Suhø is here. Where are the rest? Xiûmin, DØ, Låy?”

Junmyeon lifts one shoulder. “I don’t know yet. But if you’re all alive then I’m betting they are too.”

Sehůn frowns as Suhø slips an arm around his waist, loose and comforting. “Then what happens next?”

Junmyeon levels them both with a look that Sehůn eerily knows far too well. He’d seen it on Suhø’s face far too many times.

“We find them.”

* * *


End file.
